


The Trap

by chickenlivesinpumpkin



Series: It Started in the Shower [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Draco, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickenlivesinpumpkin/pseuds/chickenlivesinpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a serious problem: He wants Malfoy. But how will he convince Ron and Hermione that it’ll be all right? And, for that matter, how will he convince Malfoy to stay? He’s going to have to think like a Slytherin to pull this one off…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trap

**Author's Note:**

> I am not making any money from this and none of these characters are mine. 
> 
> A/N: The first story in this series was meant to be a one-shot. And so was the second one, actually. It's kind of gotten away from me a bit, obviously. From this point on, there's a bit more plot to the series. Apologies to PWP purists.

Lying in bed with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Malfoy, Harry had to admit this had turned into a problem.

Ron and Hermione had said Malfoy needed to leave; the trio was on a search for horcruxes, and someone as inherently untrustworthy as Malfoy couldn’t be here for it. Harry understood. He even agreed. Malfoy needed to go, and the sooner the better. Hell, even _Malfoy_ agreed—he’d already said that this little break at Grimmauld Place would be as good as over as soon as he woke up.

The answer was simple and inevitable. Malfoy would go, and Harry would stay and save the world.

The problem, however, was that the simplicity of it was a sham.

In only three hours and two bouts of sex (amazing, wild, intense sex, but still), Harry had become just a tiny bit addicted to Malfoy’s arse.

In his defense, it was a spectacular arse. Firm, round, pert.

And there was the cock, too. A thick, rosy, wonderful cock.

And all that lean muscle…

Harry shook himself. All of this really led to a single point. He did not want Malfoy to go.

He really didn’t know where the possessiveness had come from. Maybe it was just that he’d never had much in his life worth holding on to, so when he got something he wanted, he tended to hold on with both hands and teeth. He was the same way with people. Once he cared, he didn’t let go.

But why Malfoy? He’d never cared about him before. In fact, he’d felt pretty much the opposite of possessiveness for Malfoy the entire time he’d known him. Loathing might be the best word for it. He had never, in his life, even been concerned about what Malfoy was doing, let alone cared about him.

Well, okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Last year he’d gotten a little stalkery. For a few seconds in the girl’s bathroom, the shining tears on Malfoy’s face had struck something deep inside Harry, up until he’d nearly killed the kid, anyway. And he’d seen Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower, terrified for himself and his family, and he’d sympathized with that. A tiny bit.

But there had been all those earlier years of hatred and humiliation, when all Harry had wanted to do was give as good as he got, to let Malfoy know his proper place, to put his hands around that throat and squeeze until Malfoy submitted and let Harry have complete power over him, the power to do whatever he liked, whether that was slowly stripping that Slytherin uniform off and spreading the long, pale legs or pushing the boy to his knees and telling him to open his throat…

That had gone to an unpredictable place rather quickly, Harry thought.

He looked down at Malfoy and had to admit it.

The boy was beautiful.

Sure, he’d always been a little pointy, but he’d grown into that nicely. He had a sharp, angular beauty now, almost angelic, what with the silky white-blond hair, and the smoky grey eyes that could be innocent and wicked by turns, and the pink, sweet mouth that could hurl the most cutting insults but could also kiss and stroke and beg.

And that _skin._ Oh, gods, Harry thought he could spend hours worshipping every inch of Malfoy’s soft, alabaster, resilient hide. So white, so perfect. Harry had scars and spots and the occasional hair where it shouldn’t be, like any regular human. Malfoy was…singularly blessed.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself. Now he sounded like Lavender Brown had whenever she’d looked at pictures of the Weird Sisters.

Maybe it was a spell.

Or a potion.

Harry was immeasurably cheered by this thought. He didn’t _like_ Malfoy. He’d been poisoned! Yeah!

Except…he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink until after this whole wanting-to-fuck-Malfoy thing had started. And Malfoy hadn’t had his wand until after it had started, either.

So, if it was some kind of trap, it was one that Harry had very conveniently wandered into of his own free will. There was probably a kind of comfort in that. If he squinted really hard. With his glasses off.

And what it all came down to was that no matter how beautiful and addictive Malfoy might be, he was suspect, and in a task as important as the search for horcruxes, Harry had no business letting his cock do his thinking.

So he would kick Malfoy out. As soon as the other boy woke up, he was gone. Earlier, even. Now, maybe. While Harry still had the willpower. Yes, he would thump Malfoy awake, then toss his clothes at him and shove his arse (that _spectacular_ arse) out onto the street. Or into the floo, because the street seemed kind of mean. And, actually, waking him up early when he clearly hadn’t had a lot of sleep (particularly when some of that was Harry’s fault) seemed a little mean, too.

And maybe it was time to be honest. If Harry was going to wake Malfoy up, it would be so he could fuck him again, not kick him out.

Yes, he definitely had a problem.

Harry knew what he had to do. And he was going to find the will to do it. He was going to march down those stairs, tell his best friends that he had lost his sac somewhere and that he needed them to roust Malfoy from his bed and get rid of him because Harry couldn’t do it. They would be his sanity. They would drag Malfoy out of bed for him. He could hide in the bathroom, brave Gryffindor that he was.

He nodded definitively. That was a good plan. Not particularly flattering, but it would get the job done.

Harry glanced down at Malfoy again, who somehow managed to look downright pure while he was sleeping (despite being at least 49% evil). His mouth was slightly parted, and Harry could see a hint of even, white teeth between full lips. His nose was slim and aristocratic (even the pointy worked). His forehead was high and noble. His lashes were dark brown even though he was a natural blond (Harry knew this now). Even his damn ears were perfect.

Harry would definitely be letting Ron and Hermione do the dirty work.

But first, he was going to have to fuck Malfoy again.

*

“You don’t think he’s going to do it,” Ron said. “Make Malfoy leave, I mean.”

“No,” Hermione said, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I don’t. He had that look, Ron. You know the one. The one that says he’s made up his mind and no matter what we say or do, it’s not going to change, so we either have to fall in line or let him do it alone.”

“Yeah,” Ron grumbled. “I saw it.”

“I hate that look.”

“Yeah. It usually means we’re about to do something stupid and nearly die.”

“Yes, it does,” Hermione said, perking up.

When a thud sounded from upstairs, they both looked up at the ceiling. “What do you wager, then?” Ron asked her, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. “They killing each other?”

A screech warbled down, followed by a few more thuds, followed by a throaty moan.

“No,” Hermione said delicately, her cheeks as pink as Ron’s ears now. “No, I don’t think that’s what they’re up to.”

*

Malfoy slept like the dead. Harry had to stroke and kiss and pinch him for a while before he started to stir. And then it was to groan.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Potter.”

“Wake up, Malfoy.”

“No. I’m sleeping. Get your hands off me.”

“Don’t wanna. Roll over.”

“Which part of _I’m sleeping_ was too complex for you? I came here for rest, and that’s the one thing I’m not getting. Stop pulling on my arm, you daft ponce.”

He was also very cranky when he was sleep-deprived. That was okay. Harry figured he’d be a lot quieter with a cock in his mouth.

And at the thought of it, he decided that getting Malfoy to suck him was his new goal in life.

And _then_ he’d fuck that spectacular arse.

Gods, he was so hard already.

“Potter, if you don’t move your hand from my bum this instant, you will pull back a bloody stump. Actually, don’t stop. Your ruined hand will go great with that crater of a scar on your face.”

“You say the hottest things,” Harry murmured, his lips tracing over a shoulder blade. “Now tell me how ill-bred I am. Please.”

Malfoy made a noise that might have been strangled laughter. He gently took Harry’s hand, interlacing their fingers. For a moment, Harry thought he’d won. Then Malfoy twisted, hard, and Harry yelped.

“I’m sleeping,” Malfoy snapped. “Then I’m waking up and I’m leaving this house in my wake. But I’m starting to realize that for the sleeping part to happen, you need to be elsewhere, so get out.”

“It’s my bedroom,” Harry pointed out, quite reasonably, even as the idea of Malfoy leaving made his stomach tight.

“Not while I’m in it,” Malfoy replied. “Whatever room I’m in belongs to me. Always. Now get out.”

“No.”

“Then I fucking will!” Malfoy jerked away and started to slide away through the sheets.

Harry pursed his lips. He was starting to think just tackling the smaller boy would be his best option. If he could get his hands and mouth on Malfoy long enough, Malfoy would cave. He would do that wonderful, liquid, melting thing he did, where all the fight went out of him and he gave himself over to Harry and let anything happen.

The pool of heat in Harry’s gut and groin grew exponentially at the thought.

“You’re not leaving,” he growled. “Not this bed, not this room, not this house.”

With a sweep of his arm, Harry grabbed the other boy and pulled. Sneaky bastard that he was, Malfoy went with it, whole-bodied, and ended up knocking Harry, the pillows, and the blanket out of the bed with his momentum. That was sort of loud.

Harry started laughing.

“What is wrong with you?” Malfoy asked.

“You’re a wiry little bastard,” Harry said. “But if you really want to wrestle, I think I can take you.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Real wizards do battle only with their wands, you peon.”

“I have every intention of using my wand.” Harry waggled his eyebrows.

“With such a staggering gift for puns, how have I ever managed to resist you?” Malfoy said, heavy with irony.

Harry shrugged, grinning.

He was playing. With Malfoy. And it was actually fun. But he didn’t have an enormous amount of time here, because his erection was throbbing at the sight of the normally-uptight Malfoy half-hidden in a twisted sheet, eyes still heavy-lidded, hair amazingly mussed. Malfoy had been a virgin until this morning, so that meant Harry was the only one who’d ever seen him this way, all sleepy and warm and human. And debauched. Mustn’t forget that one.

So he was going to have to get a move on, because he was starting to ache.

“Come here,” he said softly. “Let me fuck you.”

“On the _floor_?” Malfoy backed away on the bed, sounding absolutely scandalized, as if Harry had asked him to roll around in pig shit.

Harry got up, began to climb onto the mattress. Malfoy slowly backed off the other side, taking the sheet with him and wrapping it around his waist. Now Harry could see the fine, lean muscles of his torso, the pink nipples, and the trail of white-blond hair that started at his navel and dipped down beneath the fabric.

Harry growled, and for a second, he thought he could see Malfoy tremble. Interesting. Harry continued to pursue, and when he reached the other side of the bed, Malfoy was already edging around the footboard in the general direction of the door. However, Harry took a giant step and caught the sheet under his heel.

“You are beyond immature,” Malfoy said, but he stood there uncertainly.

“Just drop the sheet,” Harry suggested.

Malfoy flashed him a two fingered  _fuck you_ with his free hand, but his gaze was on the door. Probably wondering if getting away from Harry was worth possibly being seen naked by Ron and Hermione. Malfoy was a competitive little shit, Harry knew. He could very well end up chasing Malfoy naked into the parlor.

But Harry should have known better than to try to predict what the other boy would do. Malfoy neither stood there for Harry to tackle him nor ran. Instead, he grabbed a small wooden jewelry case from the dresser and chucked it at Harry.

“OW!”

Something else was flung in his direction; he barely got his arms up in time to protect his face. Then a third random object came flying. And that was enough of that.

Harry launched himself at Malfoy, taking the smaller boy down with a loud thud. Malfoy very nearly managed to sink his teeth into Harry’s throat and Harry decided that the whole Malfoy-sucking-his-cock thing could definitely wait until next time. Malfoy didn’t seem quite in the proper frame of mind for that activity.

However, there were other things they could do.

They tussled for a minute, until Harry finally had the leverage and positioning he needed. He was half-straddling Malfoy, holding two delicate wrists in his fists, extending the other boy’s arms high over his head while his hard cock rode the hollow of Malfoy’s hip. After a moment of thought, he grabbed one of the pillows beside him and shoved it under Malfoy's head.

Malfoy was half-hard. That was good.

He was also spitting mad. That was less good.

“Spread your legs for me,” Harry whispered.

Malfoy hissed. Actually hissed at him. “Never again in this lifetime.”

“You’re going to be embarrassed when you’re proven wrong,” Harry said mildly. He rocked against the smaller boy, the feel of all that smooth skin against his cock making him moan. Malfoy looked furious.

“Do not… _rut_ on me!”

Harry smirked and leaned down, narrowly avoiding getting bitten again. He had to put both of Malfoy’s wrists in one hand, and use the other to force Malfoy’s face to one side. Then he began to lick and kiss and taste the skin of his throat.

“How do you manage to smell so good?” Harry mumbled.

“I realize this may be too much for your brain to handle, but bathing isn’t a foreign practice to the rest of us.”

“Ah, it’s the scent of evil. That’s right.”

Malfoy’s chest heaved and a noise came out of him that Harry realized was the other boy’s desperate attempt to conceal laughter. Yeah, trust Malfoy to be flattered by that. Harry nuzzled the curve of shoulder, traced his tongue into the hollow at the base of his neck, bit gently at a collarbone. Malfoy’s body jerked slightly. Harry pulled his wrists down, capturing them again on either side of Malfoy’s belly. He had to use both hands to keep the other boy contained, but it freed him up to move lower with his mouth.

So he did. He worked his way over to the pink nipples, mouthing at the beaded flesh, worrying them gently with his teeth, soothing the ache with soft swipes of his tongue. Malfoy began to quiver.

“Potter,” he said faintly. “Stop doing that.”

“Spread your legs for me, little cat.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Malfoy’s order was half-hearted at best. Harry estimated he was no more than ten minutes out from a fuck, and it would be less than five before Malfoy did the melty thing that drove Harry crazy. Other people probably did that, he mused absently as he investigated the edge of Malfoy’s rib cage with his lips. Other people gave themselves over to pleasure, no doubt. But with Malfoy it was different. Probably because Malfoy was an uptight, pompous, demanding brat every other moment of the day. Certainly because there’d never been an easy moment between the two of them. It was all battle all the time with the Slytherin except when he melted, and the contrast between the viper-tongued bully and the sweetly helpless wanton was captivating.

He wanted this. And not just for right now.

For a moment he paused. He wanted Malfoy to stay, wanted it badly enough that he was suddenly determined to see it happen. He would just have to figure out how to get it in a way that wouldn’t risk everything else.

And to do that, he would need to start with the boy currently lying beneath him. No point in upsetting Ron and Hermione if it didn’t work out. But how to get Malfoy to agree to stay?

Thinking about it, he dragged his mouth down Malfoy’s side and across the flat belly. He nibbled the ridge of hipbone.

“Spread your legs for me.”

A tight moan and a desperate head shake.

Harry let the line of Malfoy’s hard cock rest against his face. He smiled at the choked noise that came from above. He breathed hotly against tender skin before sitting up. He intended just to tease, but Malfoy used the opportunity to try to roll over. And a plan came to Harry.

“No,” he murmured. “Stay like this.”

Malfoy blinked, but Harry moved up, sliding his body along the other boy’s, letting their cocks rub together, making the other boy shudder. “That’s…I want to turn over.”

“No,” Harry repeated. “I want you like this.”

“But…you’re looking at me.”

It was somewhat dark in the bedroom, but Harry thought he could just make out a blush on those cheeks.

“So?” he asked, smiling.

“So, it’s weird!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Potter!”

Harry laughed. “I’m aware of that.”

“Well, I’m Malfoy, you prat. And if you’re looking at me, it’s…”

“It’s what?” Harry asked, when it became clear Malfoy wasn’t going to continue, although he was already relatively certain as to why Malfoy disliked the idea of eye contact during sex. “Say it.”

“It’s weird!”

“Coward,” Harry said quietly.

Malfoy’s jaw clenched. “We’re just fucking. Don’t make it personal.”

“It’s too late, little cat.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“You don’t mind it while I’m inside you,” Harry said mildly.

Malfoy began to struggle again, trying to shift out from under him, but Harry held him down and kissed him. He kept it gentle and sweet. Not demanding. Seducing. Long, slow, hot, wet kisses. Kisses that made Harry lose track of the room and anything else in it. All he knew was Malfoy and his mouth and the sighs escaping from it.

“Malfoy, let me take care of you,” he whispered, and kissed him again.

And that was the moment when it happened. Malfoy threw his head back, eyes falling closed. His legs opened. His spine arched. He _melted_.

“Fuck, yes.” Harry bit out, and with triumph singing in his blood, he slid back down that lean body and swallowed Malfoy whole.

The cry that came from that slender throat drove Harry on. He loved the taste and feel of the boy beneath him, the salty-sweet skin, the light scent of musk, the weight and thickness of the cock on his tongue. Harry let go of Malfoy’s wrists—it was safe now, because once Malfoy gave up the fight, he became nothing less than a hedonist until he came—and felt fingers tunnel into his hair. Harry used his newly available hands to fondle balls and trace the crease between buttocks. Then he slid his hands beneath Malfoy’s arse, tilting him up. He’d gotten between those long legs at some point that he didn’t remember, and he’d also begun humping the rug. Mrs. Black would be horrified.

Harry lifted and lowered Malfoy’s arse, encouraging him to thrust, and in seconds the other boy had taken the idea and run with it. He was thrusting deeply into Harry’s mouth, holding him in place with clenched fists, gasping out soft mewls and cries that made Harry insane.

He tasted pre-come and pulled off to summon the lube from the nightstand.

“Harry, please,” Malfoy moaned.

Yet another reason to like Malfoy’s melty state: it was the only time when Harry was Harry and not Potter. And the way he said it, like he was begging for Harry to fill him in a way no one else could…

He lubed up his fingers faster than he ever had in his life, and in moments he had three of them deep in Malfoy’s body. He stretched Malfoy’s hole with firm, steady pressure, easing him open. They’d had sex twice already that morning, so that little ring of muscle responded quickly. Soon Harry was wrapping Malfoy’s legs around his waist and lifting that spectacular backside so he could slide inside.

They both groaned.

When Harry was fully seated, eyes nearly crossed from the pleasure of the hot velvet surrounding his cock, he decided that he didn’t care about anything but this. One way or another, he was going to have this again. And again. Because Malfoy’s arse was his. He didn’t even mind that Malfoy came with it.

“I’m keeping you,” he said, perhaps being a bit impulsive in just saying it like that.

“Harry…” Malfoy said, well, moaned, but it was negation all the same.

“I am,” Harry insisted, still simply resting inside the other boy. “I’m going to keep you here, in my bed, all the time. You’ll live here just so I can touch you and taste you and fuck you any time I want. I’ll take all your clothes away so there’s never anything between my cock and your arse.”

Malfoy’s hips jerked, seemingly without his permission. “Harry, please stop talking and fuck me.”

Harry moved slightly, a small thrust that made the slender body beneath him tremble. “And I’ll teach you all the things you need to know to please me. You’ll learn how to suck me, Malfoy, how to suck me deep into your throat.”

“Gods,” Malfoy whispered. “Move. Please.”

Harry rewarded him with another shallow thrust. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? My cock on your tongue, shoving deep? And you’ll have to get used to swallowing, because that’s all I’m going to let you have from now on. You’ll exist on my come alone.”

Malfoy was shaking apart beneath him. “Harry, please. Oh, please, fuck me.”

“You’ll learn to meet me at the door on your knees,” Harry said. He couldn’t wait anymore, and once he found the proper angle to hit that special spot, he began to move in long, sure strokes. Malfoy lifted to meet every single one, his hands clutching Harry’s shoulders, his legs locked tightly around him.

“I’m not a dog,” Malfoy said, but there was absolutely no hint of complaint in the whispery moan.

“No, you’re my cat, Malfoy, my little cat who wraps himself around me and makes the sweetest little noises. You’ll meet me on your knees and even before I’ve closed the door, you’ll be opening your mouth and your legs and your arse for me, anything I want. You’ll suck me and lick me and taste me all over.”

“Faster,” Malfoy said faintly. “Harder.”

“No. But I’ll teach you to lick my arse, to taste me there.” Harry found the idea immensely exciting. His proper, pureblooded Malfoy, who sneered at the idea of lying on a floor, so submissive and wanton that he would put his mouth on Harry’s pucker just to please him.

“No,” Malfoy moaned, head shaking back and forth in denial. His hips moved faster, though. His fingers dug deeper. His cock was dripping.

“You will. You’ll put your tongue in me, Malfoy, and you’ll love it, because that’s the kind of slut you are. Look at you, clinging to me, arching. Fuck, you want it. You crave it. You were made for this, Malfoy. You were made for me. Open your eyes.”

Yes, he wanted Malfoy’s eyes open. He wanted Malfoy to know that he couldn’t hide from this. Couldn’t pretend. He wanted Malfoy to have to admit that this was more than fucking.

But God, Malfoy felt good under him: slim but firm, all soft skin and hard muscle, delicate and strong at the same time, and the way he _moved_. It was starting to take the top of Harry’s head off.

“Keep doing that,” Harry managed, then remembered that he was trying to convince Malfoy to stay. “Open your eyes.”

Malfoy’s head fell back on the pillow, one foot sliding off of Harry’s thigh to plant on the floor. He began to lift higher to meet Harry’s thrusts. He groaned, “Fuck me, Harry. Please.”

“I know, little cat. I know what you need.” Harry put his head down and began to fuck in earnest. He slid his arms around the other boy, letting him take more of his weight, holding him close. Malfoy continued to moan and strain beneath him, now whispering in his ear over and over, “ _Please, Harry, please, fuck me, please.”_

It was driving him insane.

Harry was plowing into Malfoy by this time, thrusting hard, eyes going blind because of how tight that arse was, how maddening the scrape of muscle around his cock was, how hot and sweet Malfoy’s mouth was. He was out of breath, sweating, and Malfoy was begging, clutching at him, taking all of Harry’s strength, all of his force, and opening himself freely for more.

Harry shifted his weight to one arm and found Malfoy’s cock. He rubbed it slowly, not nearly enough to get Malfoy to come, and the other boy let out a sound that was very nearly a whine. If he’d had the capacity for any kind of awareness beyond how good everything felt, Harry might’ve smiled. Instead, he just let Malfoy’s desperation fuel his own.

He thrust harder but kept his hand slow, felt Malfoy begin to struggle beneath him again, albeit for a very different reason this time. He kept the pace the same for long, long minutes, until Malfoy was writhing.

“Fasterfasterfaster.”

“Not until you look at me.”

“ _Faster._ Now.”

“Nope.”

Malfoy tried to break Harry’s focus with nipping licks to shoulders and neck, and when that didn’t work, he tried to knock Harry’s hand off his cock to take over. Harry just paused long enough to capture Malfoy’s wrists in one hand and wrench them over his head again. Malfoy snarled, struggling for real, and for a minute it was all Harry could do to hold onto him. The kid was slippery, agile and quick, and Harry even thought a few times he might lose his grip. But finally he had that nearly-delicate—if surprisingly capable—body subdued beneath him, and Harry resumed thrusting, one hand slowly, maddeningly moving on Malfoy’s cock.

He was balanced on his knees now. He couldn’t decide what he wanted more—the hot, angry, biting mouth or the elegant, slightly sweaty throat. Or perhaps those lovely shoulders. He wished he could reach the pink, tight nipples, but he couldn’t do that and hold onto the twisting body beneath him at the same time. And Malfoy was half-mad beneath him, head tossing, limbs straining, hips bucking. His breaths were nearly sobs.

“Harry, please,” Malfoy begged. “I’ll do anything. Let me come. Please.”

“Look at me.”

“No,” he moaned. “I…I can’t.”

“You said you’d do anything,” Harry reminded him. _Please, Malfoy, break._ Harry was on the verge of coming; every time Malfoy moved, his arse tightened and flexed, pushing Harry closer. He shook his head, trying to think.

Malfoy was on the edge, making little whimpering noises. His chest was heaving, his breath panting.

“Open your eyes, Malfoy. Look at me.”

Harry was barely holding on. He was ramming into Malfoy now, hard and fast, and the other boy was shuddering.

“No…Harry, please…I can’t.”

“You can. Look at me.”

“Let me come! Please, gods, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Then open your eyes,” Harry demanded harshly, and Malfoy’s lids finally lifted.

Grey eyes stared back at him, soft and vulnerable and needy, and Harry felt it all the way down his spine. “Mine,” he whispered. “You’ll be mine. You’ll suck my cock and open your thighs and your arse, you’ll put your tongue in my arse, all because I want you to. Because you’re mine. You’ll let me take care of you. You’ll stay, Malfoy. You’ll stay with me.”

Tears dripped from Malfoy’s eyes, and he cried, “All right! Yes. Whatever you want, Harry, yes.”

With a mad growl, Harry kissed the half-open mouth and drove his tongue in, even as he plunged his cock into Malfoy with vicious force. He pounded the smaller boy into the floor, lost in the madness of the slender body, the lean limbs and hot, tight arse. He finally let his hand speed up on Malfoy’s cock.

He felt come on his fingers just before he heard Malfoy’s voice raised in a keening shout. He felt those hips snap up, the arms and legs shuddering. Felt everything he wanted coming apart in his arms.

“Mine,” Harry said again, and came with a howl.

When his brain returned to awareness whole minutes later, he realized he must be crushing Malfoy. But he couldn’t quite make himself move just yet.

“That wasn’t fair,” Malfoy said evenly, somewhere by his ear.

“No?”

“It was underhanded, cruel, and manipulative.”

Harry held his breath, figuring an explosion had to be on the way.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Harry lifted his head. Malfoy wouldn’t look at him. “Malfoy, are you…are you impressed?”

“Shut your face, Potter.”

Harry snickered. “You are. You’re…dare I say it? You’re proud of me.”

“I hate you.”

Harry’s snicker became a full-on laugh. Slytherins. What a fucked up bunch. “You like me so much right now.”

“Get off of me. You’re fat.”

Harry couldn’t stop laughing. He rolled off of Malfoy, trying desperately to keep an eye on him because this seemed a prime moment for the other boy to get violent. Moving jerkily, the other boy sat up. He cast a mildly disgusted look at the floor and rug beneath him, lip curling.

“Filthy,” he muttered, and began to get up.

Harry caught his wrist, his laughter fading. “I meant it. You’re mine, and you’re staying.”

Malfoy still wouldn’t look at him. In fact, they sat there for several long minutes in silence while Malfoy decided whether or not to fight Harry’s hold.

“I’ll take care of you. You’ll be happy. I’ll keep you safe,” Harry murmured. “I would die for the people I care about. I have a saving people thing. It’s who I am. It wouldn’t cost me much to add you to the list.”

“Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “I…”

“Have you ever had that? Someone who would give anything to make you feel cared for? To keep you safe?”

Considering what Harry knew of Malfoy’s parents, he rather doubted it. Not that he didn’t think Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy didn’t love their son, but they’d always seemed kind of cold and proper. He couldn’t picture them giving Malfoy kisses or hugs or holding him when he was hurt or scared.

And as for keeping him safe? That was the opposite of what the Malfoys had done to their son. Letting him be enslaved to a mass murdering megalomaniac at sixteen? Putting him in a position where he had to kill to keep their family safe? Allowing that monster to take up residence in their home with a troop of psychotic monkeys? No, Harry was willing to bet that, loved or not, Malfoy had gotten very little tenderness and quite a lot of disappointment out of his parents.

Harry’s fingers remained tightly closed around Malfoy’s wrist, but it wouldn’t be an impossible hold to break. And from the way Malfoy still refused to look at him, he thought it was likely the other boy would try.

“Malfoy,” Harry murmured. “Stay. I won’t ask for much.”

“Just my loyalty, my body, and my life,” Malfoy said bitterly.

“Your loyalty I will get,” Harry said flatly. “I’m taking Voldemort down, Malfoy. If you fight against that, we’re going to have a serious problem.”

Then he sighed. “Your body, I will _ask_ for. It’s a hell of a body, after all. And it’s not just fucking, if that’s any comfort, at least not on my side. But you have the right to say no. I’m not asking you to whore yourself for safety. I won’t make you leave if you do say no.”

Although, he would immediately set about changing Malfoy’s mind, should that happen.

“As for your life?” Harry licked his lips. “I’m very, very tired of people dying for me, Malfoy. I would never ask it of you, little cat.”

Now Malfoy looked at him—with fury. “Stop calling me that! Why do you keep calling me that?”

Harry grinned. “You move like one.”

Malfoy stuttered, completely poleaxed. “W-what?”

“Smooth, graceful, lazy one second, quick the next. It’s really very sexy. You do it especially well when I’m inside you.”

“Stop saying things like that,” Malfoy said hotly. “You’re pissing me off.”

“That’s new,” Harry said calmly. He let his thumb rub gently over Malfoy’s hand. “Stay.”

After another long minute of silence, Malfoy eased away. Harry felt something inside him clench, but he reluctantly let go.

Malfoy got to his feet and went to the bed. He moved less like a cat now and more like a boy who’d been fucked three times in as many hours.

But he came back. With his wand. He cast a couple of cleansing spells and extended a hand. “Get up, you slothful sod. I have something to give you.”

Harry’s eyebrows climbed up into his hair as he let the other boy help him up. “That’s nice of you, but I really don’t think I can fuck you again just yet.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Idiot. It’s in my bag.”

He went over to the chair where his bag had been dumped and pawed through. He pulled out a plain wooden box and set it on the bed between them.

“I never intended to give this to you,” Malfoy said. “I hope you’ll believe me. I took it and said I would pass it along, but I never meant to. Even this morning, Potter, when I still…I mean, even though I hate you, I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m not cut out to be a killer, after all.”

Harry smiled, but didn’t take his eyes off the box. “You’re growing as a person.”

“You’re hilarious, really,” Malfoy said sarcastically. “Snape told me that under no circumstances was I to lose it, wear it, or listen to it, whatever the bloody hell that means.”

Harry frowned, and with a surge of caution burning up his spine, he grabbed his wand.

“I lied to you,” Malfoy continued. “Snape knew you were here, obviously. But I wasn’t lying about why I came. I was planning on running, and Snape knew that. He just asked me to give this to you before I took off. I said I would, but I didn’t mean it. I swear.”

Harry reached out toward the box and Malfoy hit him on the hand with his wand. “Ow! What the hell, Malfoy?”

“It’s cursed, you idiot. You don’t just reach out and touch a cursed object.”

“You did.”

“Because I know it’s safe, moron. It wasn’t intended for me. It was intended for you. I don’t know what it’ll do if you touch it.”

“Then you show me what’s in it.”

“Does it matter? I’m only showing it to you now so you’ll know that I mean it.”

“That you mean it when you say you’re with me?”

Malfoy swallowed and looked away. “Whatever.”

Harry smiled. The part of him that had clenched earlier at the thought of Malfoy leaving had suddenly opened, warm and relieved. “Sure,” he said casually, and Malfoy flashed him a look with a faint hint of gratitude for not making a big deal out of it.

Harry refocused on the box. “Will you open it? I’d like to know just what Snape was planning on doing to me.”

Malfoy shrugged and tugged the lid off the box. “Remember, I wasn’t going to give it to you. I’m done giving cursed jewelry to other people. It was just a phase.”

Inside lay a yellow locket engraved with an S, resting in a puddle of silver chain.

“Holy fuck,” Harry breathed. “Malfoy, do you know what that is?”

Malfoy seemed taken aback by Harry’s reaction. “No, but like I said, I wasn’t going to give it to you. I wasn’t!”

Harry laughed and darted to Malfoy’s side, swinging the other boy into his arms. “Then we both would’ve been very sorry.”

“What? Put me down, you git!”

Harry dropped him lightly back to his feet, but mostly so he could kiss him. He slid his tongue against Malfoy’s, cupping that angular jaw in his hands, dragging the kiss deeper and hotter and fiercer until Malfoy was panting into his mouth and wrapped tightly in his arms. Then he pushed Malfoy away, ignoring the disgruntled comment that earned.

“Get dressed,” Harry ordered. He looked around, found his pants and pajama bottoms. “Trousers, at least.”

“Why? Are we going shopping for a matching set of earrings?” Malfoy sneered. “Yellow’s not really your color.”

Harry went to the door and opened it. “Ron, Hermione, get up here.”

“Potter!” Malfoy screeched, immediately diving for his clothes. He wrestled a pair of black trousers up over his slender hips, and while Harry felt a little bereft at seeing that spectacular arse disappear under clothing, he couldn’t help admiring the way everything Malfoy wore seemed designed to make that arse stand out.

“You don’t care much for your friends,” Malfoy snapped. “If they’d seen me naked, Potter, they’d have been ruined for all future partners.”

Harry laughed, inordinately pleased with the other boy.

Then Ron and Hermione were there, out of breath from hurrying up the stairs. Ron immediately cast a suspicious look at Malfoy, presumably for daring to be half-naked in a room with a half-naked Harry.

Malfoy smirked. “What, you find me untrustworthy, Weasley? I am shocked and appalled. I have no idea what could ever drive you to a conclusion like that. Oh, wait, that's right, it's fucking obvious. Good of you to get there eventually, you blithering idiot.”

“Shut it,” Harry said to Malfoy without heat. “This is not how you convince them you’re one of the good guys.”

“As if he ever could be,” Ron grumbled. 

“Look, Ron,” Harry said impatiently, pointing at the box on the bed. “Look at what Malfoy wasn’t going to give me.”

Ron and Hermione might have been a little confused by that statement, but they both looked down at the locket, their eyes widening. Then they both lifted their heads to stare at Malfoy.

“Snape gave it to me to give to Harry, but I already said I wasn’t going to,” Malfoy said, a little wary at the intensity of the looks. “I’m only showing it to him now so that he won’t find it later and get the wrong idea in his dull Gryffindor head.”

“He wasn’t going to give it to me because it’s cursed,” Harry said, feeling a little giddy. “I sort of…backed him into it. He was protecting me from a powerful, cursed object. Isn’t that a bizarre turn of events?”

“Snape gave this to you?” Hermione asked Malfoy.

“Yes.”

“To give to Harry?”

“Gee, there must be an echo, because it sounds like I just said that.”

“Little cat,” Harry said warningly, and Ron burst into laughter.

“Little cat? Holy shit. Is that all it would've taken to get Malfoy to behave this whole time? A spray bottle full of water?”

“Nice, Potter,” Malfoy said, his face bright red. “Thanks fuck all for that one.”

Harry hit Ron on the arm. “We’re best mates. Don’t make my life harder for me.”

“What do you care? He’s leaving any minute now, right?”

Harry looked at Ron evenly, willing him to understand. “No, he’s staying.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed, darting back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, before finally settling on Malfoy. “What’d you do to him? Is...is this whole thing between you two a ploy to lower his guard?”

Malfoy scoffed. "As if I would need a ploy, and if I did, it wouldn't be something so obvious that even a Weasley could see through it."

Ron turned to Harry. "Think about it. Maybe that's why he fucked you."

"Technically, I fucked him," Harry said. "And frankly, I'm not sure I care why he did it as long as he keeps doing it. Come on, Ron, it's Malfoy. If he wasn't up to something, he'd be somebody else."

Malfoy frowned. "Thank you?"

"That's exactly the problem," Ron said impatiently, ignoring Malfoy entirely. "He's up to something. He's seducing you for a reason."

“Me?” Malfoy exclaimed indignantly. “Talk to him. He’s the one who won’t keep his hands to himself for five fucking minutes.” He adopted a high-pitched, mocking voice. “Sleep in my bed, Malfoy. Let me kiss you, Malfoy. Stay and live in my creepy, dirty house, Malfoy.”

Harry flushed, but Hermione snickered, making all three boys looked at her. “What? That wasn’t me. I didn’t say anything.”

“Look we can argue about this more later,” Harry said. “But I’m not keeping him around for that. He’s got a lot of good information we could use, so if Snape’s sending us things like this, we may need Malfoy around. And he’s probably got a lot of ideas on how someone might destroy dark, cursed objects.”

“All right,” Hermione said finally. “We’ll, ah, talk about this part now, and the Malfoy part later. Is he, erm, coming downstairs with us?”

“No,” Malfoy said flatly. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay,” Harry said agreeably. Malfoy gave him a sharp look.

“I mean it,” he said.

“I know.”

“If you wake me up again, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“Sure,” Harry said. He turned to Ron and Hermione. “Can you guys give us ten minutes? I think we’re going to have to fight first.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. He seemed more than eager to leave. Hermione grabbed the box and the two of them made themselves scarce.

“We’re not fighting,” Malfoy said, when Harry had closed the door.

“No,” Harry said. “We’re not. Because if I’m not allowed to wake you up, I’ll need to get this out of my system now.”

“What is wrong with you?!” Malfoy wailed.

“What can I say, Malfoy?” Harry asked. “You’ve got a spectacular arse. And now it’s mine.”

*

Twenty minutes later, when Hermione knocked tentatively knocked on the door, Harry called roughly, “Gonna need another ten, Hermione.”

He didn’t stop fucking Malfoy’s arse as she walked away, no doubt shaking her head. He just thrust deeper and continued what he’d been saying.

“You will,” he promised. He ran a hand down Malfoy’s spine. Possessively.

“I won’t.”

“You will. You’ll lick my cock and my arse and put your tongue in me, and you’ll like it so much you’ll thank me for the privilege.”

“I won’t,” Malfoy said, sounding downright breathy even as he rocked back on Harry’s cock with mad desperation.

Harry simply grinned and pumped harder. Malfoy would cave any minute now, and afterward, his Slytherin tendencies wouldn’t even let him be mad about it. Seemed like he’d finally figured out how to win a fight with Malfoy. All he had to do was fuck the other boy into submission. 

“Yes, little cat,” he said softly, “you will.”


End file.
